


a rainbow of lightning bolts

by nox_arcus



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Banter, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Riding, Roleplay, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26069365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nox_arcus/pseuds/nox_arcus
Summary: On set while filming the music video forPussy, Till gets inspired by the maid outfit and convinces Richard to give it a try.
Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Till Lindemann
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	a rainbow of lightning bolts

The set of _Pussy_ witnesses them giggling and cackling like teenagers as no other set of them had – not even _Keine Lust_ , and Joern had considering hosing them in water to get them to focus at one point. Jonas watches over them with indulgent eyes and most of the crew follows their antics with laughs of their own, but nothing quite reaches the state of hilarity they find themselves in. Maybe there is a bit of the awkwardness one can have as a teenage boy fumbling around with a girl for the first time ever; they are a lot more experienced this time, but somehow, it feels a bit similar, to be around professionals and with the crew filming them.

All hell breaks loose when they get their hands on the maid outfit and tease each other with wearing it, giggling and cackling until they are crying with laughter and cannot even speak anymore, silent tears running down their cheeks. They have to calm down in separate corners of the set to be able to keep filming, and if some people’s cheeks get flushed for reasons other than hilarity, well… they make sure their fellow bandmates are none the wiser about it.

It takes a bit of negotiation in a dark corner – mostly Till lowering sad eyes on Richard, a few logical counter-arguments to Richard’s feeble protests, and the reassurance they can stop the scene at any given time – but Richard finally lets himself be convinced. Till gets his hands on an outfit which size is supposed to be correct and they disappear for the evening.

Till settles down in the suit of the very high-end palace room they picked and prepares himself a whiskey on the rocks, leaving the bother on the coffee table once he is done. He wears his finest suit, a three-pieces black ensemble with a dark blue dressing shirt and a black tie, polished shoes shining dimly in the dim light of the room. Heavy curtains are drawn over the huge windows and he can barely hear the sounds of the streets below, soft jazz music playing in the background. Arousal and anticipation pool at the bottom of his stomach and he has to force himself to focus on his drink, already half-hard in his trousers. A stack of papers is piled on the long coffee table, next to his glass, and he pretends to peruse through them, attention attached to the noises coming from the attached bathroom. He knows Richard is going through it to indulge him more than because of a marked interest in the outfit – although he definitely is curious – and the mere thought manages to turn him on even more.

He settles back in the huge leather armchair, puts his glass on the wooden pedestal table – they really made the right choice when they picked that hotel, the furniture is even more on point than they had thought – and brings the stack of papers to him, trying to get in character.

The door of the bathroom opens at this moment and he stops reading mid-sentence, fighting not to turn his head towards Richard. He hears the soft bristle of clothes shifting together, listens to the muffled sound of the heels hitting the thick carpets covering the wooden floor. He pretends to keep reading, ignores Richard until he stops a few feet away from the armchair.

Silence stretches between them for a moment.

Richard coughs a little to get his attention.

“Herr Lindemann?” he says in a simpering voice, and Till has to bite the inside of his cheek not to react.

He slowly raises his eyes from the papers – he wouldn’t be able to say what he just read even with a gun next to his head – and turns his head to look at Richard, a look of boredom on his face.

And almost breaks character as soon as he sees Richard, all pink cheeks and soft hair pointing upwards. He looks almost _demure_ in the maid’s outfit, the innocent, almost naïve, expression on his face reinforcing this impression. Till doesn’t know where to look: his bright blue eyes, surrounded by dark eyeliner and eyeshadow? the black leather choker fitting tightly around his neck? the outfit itself, so snug around his waist Till wonders if it is sewn around a corset? the skirt that ends at the top of his thighs, barely covering his ass? the fishnet stocking garters and the hint of the straps he can already guess? the heels?

He stares and stares and stares, looks Richard up and down and then down and up, slowly, until his lover is squirming on his heels, balance even more precarious, biting on already red, shiny lips, embarrassment written all over his face.

Till is well and fully constricted in his pants.

He has to clear his throat twice before being able to speak, and doesn’t miss the glint of amusement in Richard’s eyes at his reaction.

“About time,” he grumbles, voice sounding a bit strained even to his ears – and Richard bites on his lip even more, to stop a laugh from coming out. “Cleaning wasn’t done correctly; some dust remains there.”

And he points in the direction of the TV standing in front of him. It is a lie, of course: the room was immaculate when they got it and they clearly didn’t have the time to mess with it before, but they have to set up the scene a little.

“Of course, Herr Lindemann,” Richard says, still in the same simpering voice, and Till has to bite down on the grunt at the back of his throat.

There is no way they are going to finish the scene as they planned it: either he is going to break down character in the first place, of Richard will.

He watches as Richard slowly walks towards him, hips swaying because of the high heels, before bending down slightly to pick the feather duster on the coffee table and moving in direction of the TV. Till all but throws the papers on the coffee table, reaches for his glass and swallows a gulp without tasting it, eyes focused on Richard’s backside. His slow pace is half-teasing and half cautiousness to not twist an ankle nor fall, and Till stares, fascinated. He stops breathing for a moment and then starts again as Richard puts a hand on the wall for balance, then stretches on one foot, balancing awkwardly, the feather duster in his other hand. The skirt rises up a little and Till zooms on his butt, follows the dark straps between garters and the holder on top of pale skin.

The pressure in his pants calls for his attention and he readjusts himself discreetly, careful not to make any noise.

Soft jazz music is still coming from the player and he remains silent for a moment, watches as the dim lights of the room cast shadows across Richard’s skin, watches the skirt goes up and down, tantalizing, revealing, and then hiding from view again. Finally, he starts losing his calm and clears his throat, puts his now empty glass on the coffee table.

“That is enough dusting,” he says, voice rougher than he expects it to be. “Come and get me a drink.”

Richard puts both feet back on the ground, slowly turns around, hips swaying a little – and damn those heels really are high, accenting the curve of his backside – and tilts his head to the side, eyelashes fluttering a little.

“Of course, Herr Lindemann,” he says in a pliant, simpering voice, cheeks still pink with embarrassment.

He bites his lower lip afterwards, more in an attempt not to laugh out loud than to stay in character, but the result is the same for Till, and he pushes down the grunt of arousal that threatens to come out. Richard takes his time to walk closer, drops the feather duster behind the table and reaches for the bottle of whiskey. He opens it carefully, brows furrowed as he focuses not to lose his balance while filling the glass. Till watches him do in silence, notices he keeps biting his lower lip, legs remaining upright, the skirt rising up over his backside.

Jazz keeps filling the room and he watches as Richard slowly rises up then walks up to him, a focused expression on his face, hips swaying lightly. Till doesn’t say anything, tries to keep his arousal under control, waits until Richard is almost standing next to him before putting an arm around his waist and drags him onto his lap.

Richard all but shrieks at the sudden change of position, drops across his thighs with a yelp, holds onto his jacket with one hand, fingers clenching tightly around the glass of whiskey with the other, the ember liquid sloshing very close to the tip.

“ _Till_ ,” he hisses furiously, before remembering they’re supposed to be acting. “Herr Lindemann!” he says quickly in a high, simpering voice, leveling a dark glance on him.

Till raises an eyebrow in return before taking the glass from his hand and putting it on the pedestal table next to him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as Richard rearranges himself over his thighs, feet swinging lightly – he can feel the high heels brushing against his pants every now and then.

“Make yourself comfortable, sweetheart,” he says in a teasing voice, slightly hoarse.

Embarrassment reddens Richard’s face – and he probably won’t be able to keep acting anytime soon, Till is very much aware of it – before he lowers his eyes coyly, hesitantly raises one arm until it is resting lightly across Till’s shoulders, his other hand lying on top of the skirt.

Till drags him a bit closer to him, until one of Richard’s hip presses against his erection, keeps his hand across his waist and then moves the other between Richard’s legs, teasing fingers resting at the limit of the skirt.

A very fake giggle escapes Richard, and his fingers press against Till’s shoulder.

“Oh, Herr Lindemann,” he says still in that simpering voice, fluttering his eyelashes at him, a mock-shocked expression on his face.

“Be good, _sweetheart_ ,” Till says with an undertone of teasing to his voice.

He starts exploring Richard’s thighs; the soft and utterly sensitive skin there, that he can feel through the fishnets, the straps of the garter holder sticking tightly against his skin, and he pats him in a very proprietary way.

Richard’s eyes darken and he squirms a bit over his lap.

Till smirks, feels like he has the upper hand again.

He moves his hand again, runs his nails across the very sensitive skin, deeper and deeper under the short skirt, always stopping short of Richard’s dick, whose breathing starts getting a bit more erratic. Neither of them says anything, and Till takes his time to tease him, fingers pressing onto his waist intermittently, watches Richard squirm.

A deep flush covers his cheek and his lower lip has become utterly tempting, red and swollen with how much Richard has bitten onto it.

Those lips aren’t his to kiss – _yet_.

Richard takes a deep inspiration, chest struggling to rise against the constriction of the outfit. Not quite a corset; he can see as much from up close; but this gives him ideas. For _later_.

His hand strays further, until he brushes against Richard’s balls, hears him gasp against his ear, smiles a little and then grazes at his dick, an amused smile tugging at his lips. A small gasp escapes Richard at the feather-light touch and Till removes his hand, strokes at the inside of his thigh again before reaching for his erection.

“Herr Lindemann, I’m not sure…”

The amused glint in his eyes almost brings a smile to Till’s lips, but he manages to stop himself at the last second.

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” Till murmurs, voice dark and amused.

A giggle – a _giggle_! – escapes Richard and he puts a hand on his mouth, a sheepish expression on his face.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, before another nervous giggle escapes him.

Till looks at him with fond amusement, one eyebrow raised – yeah, they’re pretty much done for the roleplaying part of the evening.

“This is ridiculous,” Richard mutters while Till keeps fondling his balls, pupils darkening in arousal.

“Oh, come on,” Till says with a laugh as Richard squirms under his hold, the skirt of the outfit pressing against the vest of Till’s suit.

Their eyes meet and Richard dissolves into a fit of cackles, holding onto Till’s shoulders not to lose his balance. Till rolls his eyes good naturedly and removes his hand from under the skirt, rather putting on Richard’s hip, making sure he isn’t at risk of falling from his lap while the guitarist laughs over him.

“I guess you made it this far,” Till says, a bit dismayed but mostly amused, completely dropping the façade of the businessman he had been going for.

Oh, he had _liked_ to have Richard at his beck-and-call, but he hasn’t lost all hope on that particular aspect. Richard hadn’t been opposed to _that_ , after all, and he had taken his orders perfectly well until then…

Yes, there is potential here. But, later. Now, he has a still slightly embarrassed guitarist squirming on his lap, and he does intend to take it further for the rest of the evening.

Richard snorts and shifts back until he can look at Till again without laughing.

“That outfit is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever worn, and it’s uncomfortable as fuck,” he says simply.

“You look hot in it,” Till says in return, sincerity visible in his eyes.

Richard smirks, but the effect is diminished by the embarrassment still visible on his face.

“You do like to see me in a dress,” he says with a teasing tone before shifting on Till’s lap again, rubbing his thigh against Till’s erection. “Need help with that, big boy?”

“Not yet,” Till mumbles before tugging on the front of the outfit.

Richard bends down willingly, smiling against his mouth as they kiss, a laugh still rumbling at the back of his throat. He nibbles on Richard’s lower lip, waits for him to open his mouth and then lets him take the lead, one hand at the small of his back. He can feel Richard starting to relax into the kiss, setting the pace, pressing his thigh not-so accidentally against Till’s erection. He gasps a little the first time it happens, and Richard laughs into his mouth before releasing him.

“Get that thing off me, then,” he murmurs once they separate.

Till is only too glad to obey, and he immediately reaches for the strings at the back of the outfit, unties the knot and runs his fingers through them until they are lying side by side, then reaches for the zipper hidden underneath, tugs on it until it is open. He lets go of Richard’s thigh, uses both hands to drag the sleeves across Richard’s shoulders and arms until the upper part of the outfit falls down. There are red imprints all over Richard’s chest and back, and Till runs his fingers against the marks, watches the goosebumps that follow.

“Did we pick it one size too small or was it simply too tight?” he asks after a moment, looking up to Richard again.

All trace of embarrassment is gone from his face and there is now an amused smirk at the corner of his mouth. He licks his lips and he runs his fingers through Till’s hair before answering.

“It might have been too tight,” he finally says, tugging on a strand of hair. “Not that I realized it when I put it on, mind you.”

“Huhu.”

Till presses a kiss where collarbone meets neck and is rewarded by a full-body shiver, Richard’s hold tightening over his shoulders. It gets almost painful but he welcomes it – enjoys it when Richard plays his body like an instrument.

He rests his hands on each side of Richard’s waist for a moment, savors the warmth of the naked flesh underneath, and starts working on the rest of the outfit. It takes some more tugging and a fair amount of Richard’s squirming on his lap, taking advantage of the opportunity to rub against his erection, before the outfit falls down Richard’s legs and ends up on the ground with a soft noise. The heels come next and it takes some maneuvering for Till to take them off, keeping Richard firmly sitting on his lap with one arm wrapped around his waist, his free hand fighting with the straps of the shoes. They drop on the floor on top of the wrinkled outfit, and Till feels a pang of arousal shot up his spine at the sight, before turning his attention on Richard again.

Naked, except for the choker, the garters still sticking to his legs, the holder firmly in position around his waist.

He is still smirking – and hard as rock, too.

“Enjoying the view?” he asks with a little laugh and a grumble escapes Till as he gets even more constricted in his trousers.

Richard yelps as Till wraps his hand around his swollen erection and then moans loudly as Till starts stroking him, slow, languorous moves that have him panting in record time, shaking a little against Till.

“I want to blow you,” Till murmurs against his ear, pausing his movements.

Richard’s eyes darken even more.

“Not on that armchair,” he says in return, still panting.

Till smiles and, in one swift movement, moves him into a bridal position, rises on his feet and walks quickly to the couch on the other side of the coffee table before dropping a half-shrieking, half-laughing Richard there. The vest of his suit creaks a little where Richard held a bit too tightly onto it but he ignores it – it’s just a piece of clothing.

“You _animal_ ,” Richard says, still laughing, before settling more comfortably on the couch.

He shifts a bit higher, until his back is resting on one of the inside arms, and then settles into a relaxed position, one leg lying down, the other slightly bent, foot firmly pushed against the couch, both hands relaxed over his stomach. Till meets his gaze – dark, glinting with amusement, a teasing smile to his lips, and falls to his knees next to the couch, one hand on top of Richard’s thigh.

Richard looks like the incarnation of lust right there and he cannot tear his eyes away.

“Are you enjoying the view?” Richard says with a drawl, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

Till nods, unable to say anything, cheeks flushed a deep red.

Richard’s smile grows bigger and he wordlessly opens his legs a bit more, a challenging expression on his face. Till holds his gaze, moves closer to the touch and slowly puts both hands over Richard’s thighs, their eyes still meeting.

Richard’s hand comes to sit in Till’s hair, fingers finding a place between errand strands, before cupping the back of his head, just holding him.

Till smiles and bends his head.

He licks at the top of Richard’s dick, smiles when he hears a sharp intake of breath and then goes to work efficiently. There is a gasp over his head as he licks a long stripe along the hard shaft, a small tugging in his hair, and he engulfs Richard’s length slowly, focusing on the warm weight against his tongue. It is slow and intimate and he feels Richard’s hand pressing on his shoulder, not trying to push him to go faster, only holding him. He smiles a little and starts sucking in earnest, focusing on getting the nicest sounds out of the guitarist.

Richard’s breathing goes heavier, more erratic.

Till grazes his teeth over his length.

Richard gasps and his fingers press harder on his shoulder, wrinkling the vest of his skin.

There is a chuckle bubbling at the back of Till’s throat but he pushes it away, focuses on the blowjob, licks and tastes and sucks, forces his throat to relax, pants a little himself. Richard gasps loudly over him, tugs sharply on his hair, almost pushes Till’s face against his crotch before releasing his hold immediately, and cupping the back of his head again.

His breathing grows more erratic and Till knows he is close, can feel the tremors in his body, feels his hips jerking forward – puts one hand there to keep him from moving too much and finishes him off.

“ _Till_ ,” Richard says urgently over him, holds tightly over his head and this is the only warning he gets before Richard comes all over his tongue.

He swallows, sucks lightly at Richard’s dick before a little whine lets him know it’s too much and then finally moves away, the hold over his shoulder lessening before letting go. He sits on the carpet next to the couch, one hand resting over Richard’s thigh, watches him with intent eyes. Richard’s eyes are half-closed and he is breathing heavily, half-panting, still holding onto his hair.

Till smiles fondly at the sight, licks the corner of his mouth for good measure and presses a kiss against Richard’s hip.

“Good?” he murmurs before starting to play with one of the straps holding garter and holder together.

Richard opens his eyes and looks at him, rolls his eyes fondly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Very much,” he says, voice a little hoarse.

He looks Till up and down, eyes still dark, and Till feels a thrill of excitation go down his spine. He shifts a little from his position on the carpet, presses himself a bit closer to the couch, runs his thumb over Richard’s hip while the guitarist stretches and aims for his pack of cigarettes on the coffee table. He can’t quite cross the distance by himself so Till reaches for the pack himself, opens it and offers to Richard. The guitarist takes one cigarette with a raised eyebrow, doesn’t say anything, just watches Till as he puts the pack back on the table and then picks the lighter up. Richard’s grip on the cigarette is still a bit loose but he raises his hand slowly, waits for Till to light it up before bringing it to his lips.

Till watches him take the first drag with fascinated eyes. He puts the zipper back on the coffee table without looking at it, too mesmerized by the sight of Richard smoking – something he has seen countless times before, and will see countless times in the future as well, but it doesn’t matter. He is utterly bewitched by the painting in front of him: Richard, half-leaning on his back, half-supported by the arm of the couch, eyes dark and hungry, the black choker hanging slightly at the base of his neck, legs languidly open.

He _wants,_ hungers for him and feels powerless in front of such beauty.

Richard’s smile turns into a smirk at the expression on his face. He places his cigarette in his other hand, runs his fingers through Till’s hair before cupping his cheek, thumb lightly caressing his skin. Till tilts his head to the side lightly, moves his arm out of the way and leans against Richard’s hip, content to let him take the lead. The strap of the garter presses against his face but he ignores the small discomfort.

The jazz album comes to an end in the player, scratches a little and plays from start again.

Richard smokes in silence, keeps petting Till’s face gently, dark eyes focusing on him every now and then before turning to the ceiling. He only asks for the ashtray, once, and Till offers it to him – a heavy, black and silver ceramic piece they certainly weren’t supposed to bring in there – before placing it on the edge of the couch, where Richard can use it freely. Till waits, silent, content to be able to just watch, to have his fill without having to do anything else. He is still quite constricted in his pants, and readjusts himself discreetly to try to ease some of the pressure, but doesn’t do anything else. He watches goosebumps rise over Richard’s skin when his fingers drift a bit too high over his hip, then along the holder of the garter, but doesn’t try to tease.

Not now.

Once his cigarette is done, Richard smashes it into the ashtray, places it on the ground next to the couch and motions for his pack again. Slightly baffled, Till picks it up from the table and offers it to him, before bringing the zipper. Richard takes it from his fingers and lights up the cigarette himself, eyeing him up and down.

“I have enough of the garters,” he says slowly, staring at Till – the intensity of his gaze makes him shiver. “Take them from me.”

He takes a drag.

“And then take off your clothes.”

Excitation shoots down Till’s spine. He shifts from his position, carefully moves into a kneeling position and then starts working on the left garter while Richard watches him intently, still smoking. His hands shake a bit as he slowly works on the straps, unfastens them from the garter before rolling it down. Richard raises his leg a little to help him, shiver a little as Till’s fingers trail along the skin – the inside of his thighs is still so sensitive – but doesn’t say anything.

His fingers drift along Richard’s dick, still soft but getting interested again, and then move towards his right leg, fumbling with the straps there too.

He drops both garters on the ground and pauses for a moment, looks at the imprints they left on Richard’s skin – pale marks already fading away. His moves his attention onto the holder, fumbles with it for a few seconds before finding a zipper and taking it off. It flies down Richard’s legs easily enough and he puts it on the ground as well.

“Fucking finally,” Richard mumbles before wriggling a little on the couch, looking a tad more relieved.

Till snorts.

“Not comfortable?” he asks in a low, teasing voice.

“Not at all,” Richard grumbles before his teasing smile comes back. “I’m not putting that on again.”

“Not even if I beg?” Till says in an even lower voice before tilting his head to the side.

One of his hands is still resting over Richard’s hip and he moves it higher, until his fingers are sprayed out over his stomach. Richard stares at him, takes a drag from his cigarette and blows the smoke in a perfect ‘o’, teasing smile still firmly in place.

“Hu _hu_ ,” he says simply before tilting his head to the side as well.

He waits for a bit and taps his cigarette against the ashtray, eyes still fixed on Till, before bringing it to his lips and taking another drag. Till watches him do, stares at his lips for a moment and then stops breathing as Richard cups the side of his face, gentle.

“You’re still wearing too many clothes,” he says quietly.

Till jerks away, startled, and starts working on his suit with impatient movements. Richard watches him do with a little laugh, starts lazily stroking himself, indifferent to his nudity, enjoying his cigarette to the very last moment.

The vest falls on top of the garters and holder with a soft sound. Till hesitates for a moment over his tie, unties it slowly, waits for Richard’s little nod before taking it off entirely. Then comes the buttons of his shirt, one by one – none too quickly, but efficient movements nonetheless. It ends up on the floor as well and Till rises to his feet, gets rid of his shoes in two swift movements, before taking hold of his belt.

Richard stares.

He pauses for a moment.

Richard stops stroking himself, stubs his cigarette in the ashtray, puts it on the ground and turns his attention towards the bottle of whiskey standing on the coffee table. Till follows his gaze, smiles a little and fills a glass before handing it to Richard, who takes it with a murmur of thanks. He then slowly takes off his belt, lets it fall on the ground with a little thump before working on his pants.

Richard takes a sip, then two, his eyes burning over Till’s skin as he takes off his pants in one swift movement. A small noise of relief escapes him as the constriction over his erection lessens, and he quickly gets rid of his socks before putting his hands at the helm of his boxers.

He looks at Richard and Richard looks at him, pupils so dilated his eyes have turned entirely black.

“Finish your drink,” Till says in a low voice, chin pointing to the mostly empty glass.

Richard stares at him one moment more, turns his attention onto the whiskey, takes one more sip and puts the glass on the table. A drop of whiskey beads at the corner of his mouth and he cleans it away with his thumb, licks it with a slightly defiant expression on his face.

Till smirks.

He slowly glides his boxers off his legs, watches as Richard straightens a bit at the sight. A little grunt of relief escapes him as his erection springs free, _finally_ , and he stands, immobile, for a brief moment, eyeing Richard with the hunger of a predator focused on its prey.

The naked hunger on Richard’s face flatters his pride.

He takes the two steps that separate him from Richard, watches him move in a somewhat sitting position at the same time and he quickly picks him up, bridal style. He huffs a little – Richard is by no means a lightweight – but holds him steady before striding towards the bed. Richard yelps a little in surprise, holds tightly on his shoulders, erection bobbing against his stomach.

“You _brute_ ,” he says with a laugh before Till drops him on the bed.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like it,” Till says in return, laughing as well. “ _Sweetheart_.”

Richard’s cheeks turn red and his eyes darken.

“Fucker,” he mumbles, Till giggling next to him, before settling higher to the bed.

There is what can only be called a mountain of pillows covering the mattress and he is quick enough to put some against the headboard, fluffing them up one by one before resting against them while Till picks the bottle of lube from the nightstand and settles on the bed, watching him with amused eyes. He plays with the cap of the bottle, opens it, closes it, while Richard runs a hand through his hair – careful not dislodge all the products he put in there to get its pointy look – before settling against the pillows, fondness written all over his face.

“I want to ride you,” he says simply, one arm draped across the pillows, idly stroking himself with his free hand.

Arousal spikes through Till’s veins and moves forward, puts one hand on the mattress and cups Richard’s neck with the other before kissing him roughly. He swallows the gasp that comes out, licks his lips and forces him to open up before devouring the inside of his mouth, tastes the whiskey and faint aftermath of tobacco. Richard moans against him, shifts on the bed and holds onto his shoulders, bites him a little in retaliation at the initial roughness before plastering himself against him. Their erections press together and Till groans at the friction, grinds down against his lover.

They’re both heavily panting when the kiss breaks, forehead against forehead, and a light chuckle escapes Richard. It’s communicative and Till laughs as well before pressing his lips loudly against Richard’s mouth, nibbling at his lower lip before shifting back.

His knees are starting to complain and he settles into a sitting position, landing none too gracefully on his butt before tugging Richard closer – who laughs as he lets himself being dragged forward, yelping a little as he ends up straddling Till’s lap, holding onto his shoulders for balance.

“You know, I put the pillows up for that exact purpose,” he says with a laugh, gesturing towards the headboard as they find themselves on the mattress with nothing to lean against.

Till snorts.

“I don’t care,” he says before kissing Richard again, hands settling on each side of his waist.

Richard grumbles playfully over him and opens his legs even more, presses against him so that they are grinding against one another. Till grunts at the delightful pressure, bites on his lower lip to get him to ease down, moves his hands lower so that he is kneading Richard’s ass, fingernails catching against the sensitive skin.

Richard squirms against him, makes a weak noise against his mouth when Till presses a bit too hard and ends up breaking the kiss to catch his breath, panting heavily.

His lips are red and swollen and Till wants nothing more than to devour them again. He watches as Richard licks them absent-mindedly, holds his gaze with an amused expression, two bright red spots on his cheeks. Till removes one hand from his ass and he cups his face before kissing him again, more tenderly, lips against lips moving gently together.

Richard makes an approving sound and nuzzles against him once they’re done, a contented expression on his face. Till smiles at the sight, kisses the top of his nose and reaches for the bottle of lube, one hand resting on the small of Richard’s back. He opens the bottle, pours lube on his fingers and starts teasing Richard’s hole before carefully inserting one finger. Richard tenses a little at the intrusion, a small gasp escapes him, and then he starts to relax as Till begins stretching him. Another finger soon joins the first and he moans loudly at the burning sensation.

Till runs a steady hand in circles over his back and nuzzles at his collarbone, licks and kisses and nibbles at the sensitive skin there. He can feel Richard’s fingers pressing against his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin, but he doesn’t say anything, keeps sucking a hickey while stretching him at the same time. Richard pants against his ear but is otherwise silent and he focuses on the hickey, lips and tongue and fingers moving together until he is satisfied with the red, glistening mark on Richard’s shoulder.

He raises his head and their eyes meet.

The hunger in Richard’s gaze send a shiver down his spine.

“More prep?” he asks in a low voice, fingers unmoving.

Richard shakes his head

“Fuck me now,” he says in a hoarse voice before kissing him roughly.

Till moans against Richard’s mouth, heart skipping a beat – always, you would think he has gotten used to that, but no, never – and grabs him by the thighs. Richard moves over him, opens his legs a bit more, still kissing him furiously, and Till bites on his lower lip as the head of his cock finally enters Richard.

Hot and tight, just the way he likes it.

Richard hisses, breaks the kiss, pants a bit from the burning stretch, grips on his shoulders so tightly Till half-wonders if he is going to draw blood. Till peppers kisses along the line of Richard’s jawline, runs circles over the small of his back, tries to get him to relax as gravity slowly does its work and Richard sinks on him, inch by inch.

He bottoms out with a gasp and Till remains immobile for a moment, waits until the pressure against his shoulders ease down, until a long exhale escapes Richard.

Until Richard starts tentatively moving over him.

“Alright?” Till murmurs against his ear.

Richard hums over him and starts rolling his hips, slowly at first and then more vigorously. Till holds him by the waist, watches him with a glazed expression and starts bucking up into him, gets the most delicious sounds out of Richard. It is an intense ride and Till keeps one hand at Richard’s waist, puts the other on the bed for balance, doesn’t do anything but watches Richard ride him, eyes half-closed, head thrown back in ecstasy. Arousal burns brighter through his veins and he grunts, the rhythmic clenching soon bringing him close to his release.

He lets go of Richard’s waist, puts his hand over his dick and starts stroking him at a fast pace. Richard doesn’t last long before coming all over his fist and Till deftly rolls them over, kissing Richard as he ends up on his back on the bed before intensifying his thrusts.

Richard gasps, holds tightly on his shoulders again and clenches around him. The sensation brings him closer to the edge and his thrusts grow rougher, more erratic, Richard hissing at the stimulation as he comes down from his high.

His orgasm comes out of nowhere, whitens his vision and almost knocks him down.

He grunts and almost falls over Richard, shifts on the side so that he isn’t entirely crushing his lover, remains inside him for a moment, at least until he has softened enough to move more freely.

Richard makes a noise as Till slowly gets away, takes his time to peer at the small amount of come coming out from his beloved guitarist. The sight turns him on like crazy, but he is a bit too spent right now to do anything about it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Richard says in a low, hoarse voice and Till laughs a little before kissing him gently.

“That good?” he asks quietly, tugging Richard closer to him.

Richard shifts on the mattress, trudges higher on the bed, makes sure he isn’t lying in the puddle of come and then curls against him, one arm around his shoulders, fingers playing with his hair. He is lying a bit higher on the pillows than Till is; much to his delight, as he can enjoy the view to his heart content.

Especially the red hickey standing out proudly on Richard’s collarbone.

“More than good,” Richard says, slightly turning his head before moving to kiss him.

He still tastes of whiskey, very much, and Till savors the taste, kisses him languorously, cups his cheek and holds him gently until they separate, both panting for breath.

Richard blinks and pushes away an errand strand of hair, stares at him with a focus that makes Till fall in love with him again.

“Was it good for you, too?” he asks, cheeks still pink. “I know this isn’t really the scene we had agreed on…”

He bites his lower lip and Till huffs a laugh before kissing him again.

“It was more than good,” he assures him. “The outfit didn’t work for you at all, but the rest did, right? We can always do it again, but without it…”

Richard nods enthusiastically and shifts closer to kiss him again. Till takes hold of his face, brings him closer and kisses him back with the same fervor, still riding the high of his orgasm.

 _Definitely_ great, and Richard in a maid outfit is not something he is going to forget any time soon.

If ever.

**Author's Note:**

> R & R


End file.
